


you were my versailles at night

by lacecat



Series: spy verse [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Spies & Secret Agents, background OT5, background flint/thomas, background silver/flint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:36:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacecat/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: “This is all I’ve ever known,” Madi says, looking back through the scope of the sniper rifle. “This life, it’s all I’ve done. I suppose it has served me well in some ways."She waits, but Miranda doesn’t press. She doesn't expect Miranda to quietly say, "I understand."Madi feels something flutter low in her stomach. Miranda is utterly unlike John in many ways - but she’s reminded of when she first met John, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. It's that same feeling now, floating up her chest.This, this was not part of the plan.





	you were my versailles at night

**Author's Note:**

> when you just go "miranda/madi backstory. why not."
> 
> (makes a little more sense if you read the first part of this, but also the first part of this verse is very many words so if you're here for some rarepair content, you should do you)

On the connecting flight to Amsterdam, Madi puts her bag up in the overhead compartment. She tucks the nondescript black fabric towards the back, and then she sits down in the seat by the window as she waits for the rest of the passengers to board. 

 

The flight attendant comes by and goes to get her a glass of water - three ice cubes - as per her request. Madi looks up just as the flight attendant moves to the side, to allow a woman to walk by her until she’s stopping at Madi’s row.

 

This woman has dark hair coiled at the base of her neck, and for some reason, she is one of the most stunning woman Madi has ever seen in her life. She neatly drops her purse on the seat next to Madi, and then turns to pick up the suitcase she was rolling down the aisle. 

 

“Would you like a hand with your bag?” Madi offers, and the woman looks over to her.

 

“Oh, I think I’ve got it, thank you,” the woman says, her voice lightly accented. As she puts her bag in the overhead compartment, Madi can’t help but to study the close fit of her blazer and pencil skirt -  something expensive yet subtle, yet she wears no watch. Some high-end businesswoman, perhaps? 

 

Belatedly, Madi catches herself staring at the sliver of pale skin on the woman's thigh that's revealed by the slit of her skirt, and her eyes flick up - only the older woman’s dark eyes are already on her, watching her in return. Madi doesn’t blush, but she also doesn’t look away - and neither does the woman. 

 

Interesting. 

 

“Is this your first time going to Amsterdam?” the woman asks, eyes still on Madi as she sits down in the seat next to her. 

 

“I went once when I was younger,” Madi says. “A family vacation.” That’s only a half lie - she had gone, only it was to infiltrate an embassy. She’s not sure she’s ever gone on a vacation in her life with her parents. “How about you?” 

 

“I’ve been there a handful of times,” the woman says, and her nails are glossy as she puts a hand on the divider between them. “Business or pleasure, this time?” 

 

“A little bit of both,” Madi says, leaning forward just a little, as the woman mirrors her movement. “And you?” 

 

“For a business meeting, I’m afraid,” the woman says, and Madi watches the way her lips - painted a dark plum color - quirk up a little at the corner. “But I think I’ll find the time for some pleasure.”

 

Madi lets a slow smile come over to her face, one that John always joked was her most dangerous expression - and the woman’s eyes drop to her mouth, just as the flight attendant comes back, and she looks away. 

 

“Can I get you a drink, ma’am?” the attendant asks the woman, setting down Madi’s glass of water.

 

The woman glances over to Madi.  “Would you care to share a bottle of champagne with me? I’m in the mood to celebrate.” 

 

“I would love to,” Madi says, pushing her glass aside, and the woman’s smile in return makes something burn low in her stomach. “What’s your name?"

 

“Miranda.” She extends her hand, and Madi takes it.

 

“Madeline,” Madi says, just as the flight attendant comes back with two glasses. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miranda.” 

 

 

•••

 

 

It’s a short flight, but Madi remembers very little beyond the touch of Miranda’s hand on her arm when she laughs, or the way that the curve of her neck is revealed when she tilts her head back to get the last drops of champagne. They finish a bottle and a half between them, and after they get off the plane, they walk all the way to customs together before they have to separate in line. 

 

Madi puts an expression of polite indifference on as her passport gets scanned - the light flashes green, and she goes through easily. Miranda is on the other side, and she tilts her head, waiting, as Madi approaches with her carry-on bag. 

 

“When’s your business meeting?” Madi asks. People are passing them by, eager to get out into the night air, but she thinks she’ll have to at least try for this, as Miranda’s fingers clench ever so slightly on the handle of her suitcase. She has a meeting with her handler the next morning, but she thinks she’ll come up with an excuse why she’s going to be late. 

 

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Miranda tells her, and there’s a slight strain to her voice, and _there it is_. “I thought I might want to do some sightseeing, before.” 

 

“It’s a beautiful city,” Madi says agreeably, watching how Miranda’s hair, now loose around her shoulders, glints from the headlights of the taxi line behind them. 

 

“It is,” Miranda says. “Very beautiful.” 

 

 “Where are you staying?” Madi asks as Miranda’s fingertips brush against her wrist from how close they’re standing. 

 

“Waldorf Astoria,” the woman says, and she takes a step even closer. “Half an hour away. A very nice room, I’m told."

 

“I’d love to come see it,” Madi says, because she’s always been a good read of people, and she thinks Miranda might appreciate the directness. Given the way she sees Miranda’s eyes dilate, she’s just won the lottery. 

 

In the taxi, Miranda puts her hand high on Madi’s thigh, and Madi parts her legs slightly under the touch. She can feel her rubbing small circles onto the top of her leg, and Madi’s hand lands on hers before she can pull away, feeling her hand tense under hers for a moment but continuing their motion. Madi doesn’t dare look directly at her, because she’s tried to fuck in the back of a car before, and it is  _never_  as dignified as one would hope. 

 

When they finally get to the hotel, Miranda heads inside to get the key. Madi thinks she might have given the driver a ridiculous tip as she pays him, and she tries her best not to run into the hotel once she’s done. 

 

They meet in front of the elevator. In the suddenly bright light, Miranda lets her eyes drag up and down her. “I had my bags sent up,” Miranda says, as Madi reaches forward to take Miranda’s hand. “You’re gorgeous.” 

 

Madi pulls her into the elevator as soon as the doors open. Even before they close again, she gets close enough once again to press a kiss to the edge of Miranda’s jaw, like she wanted to for the past half hour - or really, for the whole flight. “That’s good,” Madi says, letting her breath whisper out against Miranda’s neck, as Miranda’s breathing thickens, and she kisses the same spot again. “I would say the same, but how about I show you instead?” 

 

“That would be amenable,” Miranda says, and she lets Madi walk them to the side of the elevator, pressing her up against the side of the elevator, her bag falling to the ground. Miranda’s head falls back to the wall with a low moan as Madi's hands coming to her waist, squeezing as she kisses along her neck, working her way down so her teeth drag against the cords of her neck. 

 

Miranda’s knee insinuates itself between Madi’s legs, and in return she rucks up Miranda’s blouse, pulling it from where it had been tucked in. Miranda makes another sound, high and from the back of her throat, and Madi captures her mouth with hers, finally, greedily seeking out the bare skin under her blouse. 

 

Miranda tastes like champagne and something else that's spicier, heavier on her tongue. Madi licks into her mouth, moaning slightly when Miranda’s hands wrap behind her, fingers splaying out on her back to pull her closer. The elevator slides open, and Miranda’s hands fall to her waist, pushing her backward out of the door and steering her down the hall. Madi just barely remembering to snag her bag. 

 

“The room- right here - “ Miranda gets out, pressing Madi to the door and fumbling with the key. Just as she gets the key into the lock, Madi grabs her other hand and presses it against the curve of her breast, Miranda’s thumb going over the peak once on reflex through the thin material of her shirt. 

 

“Oh, you _minx_ ,” Miranda says, and Madi lets out a breathy laugh, Miranda temporarily abandoning the key in the lock to put a hand on the back of Madi’s neck, bringing her in for a long kiss that has them both distracted. 

 

Madi’s the one who finally reaches down before they can scandalize anyone out in the hallway, and unlocks the door. It opens behind her, and Miranda continues to steer her until the back of Madi’s knees hits the edge of the bed, and they’re both falling down on top of it, Madi tossing her bag to the side before it can get squashed.

 

Madi rolls them both over, straddling Miranda’s waist, and she’s about to duck down and try to leave a mark on the flesh that Miranda’s unbuttoned shirt has revealed - is that the edge of a tattoo? _-_ when Miranda rolls them over again.

 

“What do you want?” Miranda asks, her voice firm despite the way her hands are twitching where they’re resting on Madi’s abdomen. In response, Madi picks up one of Miranda’s hands, and she puts her finger in her mouth. 

 

Miranda lets out a punched-out groan at the sight, and the blood in Madi’s ears are roaring.

 

But then, Madi feels a callus against her lips. It’s where one’s finger might meet a trigger, for instance, if one was shooting a lot - and Madi should know since she has the same callus on her own hand.

 

It could be a coincidence. But Madi is very good at her job, and she knows better than to assume anything in this line of work. 

 

Miranda’s eyes go from where her mouth is around her finger, back to her eyes. Maybe she can’t quite control the warning tense of her muscles, for Miranda dives to the side first - but Madi is quicker, and she rolls off the bed, taking the gun out of her bag and pointing it steadily at the other woman.

 

“Well,” Miranda says, and she’s pointing a gun right back at Madi - was that in the _drawer -_ withher blouse still unbuttoned, but a new sharp look in her eyes. “I would say there has been a misunderstanding.” 

 

Madi tightens her grip. “I would think so.” Already, she’s chastising herself internally - how did she not notice before? “Who are you?” 

 

“I would ask the same.” Miranda’s voice is pleasant, but she doesn’t blink as she stares from the other side of the bed. “Are you here to kill me?” 

 

“I don’t know _who_ you are,” Madi says, frustrated, and she takes even more careful aim. “I’ll give you ten seconds -“ 

 

The door opens suddenly, and it’s only because Madi recognizes Eleanor Guthrie _incredibly_ quickly that she doesn’t end up with a bullet in her forehead. “Agent, stand down!” Eleanor orders, looking right at her, and Madi very carefully moves so that the gun’s no longer pointed at Miranda, but keeps it ready in her hand.

 

Miranda sets down her own gun on the bed, though. “Ms. Guthrie. And you, you must be Agent Scott.” 

 

“Eleanor,” Madi says instead, but her eyes are still on Miranda, tightening her grip on her gun. “How did you find me here?” 

 

“You’re as good as they say, you know,” Miranda answers instead, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Her lipstick is mostly gone by now, and Madi can still taste her on her lips. “It’s been a long time since someone’s been faster than me on a draw. I have to say, I did not expect for you to be on a commercial flight here.” 

 

“That would be the budget cuts,” Madi says flatly and sees Miranda’s eyes narrow contemplatively. “Excuse me, I need a word with Eleanor.” 

 

“Madi, this,” Eleanor says, staying still instead of guiding Madi out of the room, “Is the director. Miranda Barlow, meet Madi Scott.” 

 

Madi processes the words. “The director?” 

 

“I’m Eleanor’s boss if that’s any clearer,” Miranda says, and she rises, buttoning her shirt quickly, professionally, as though she hadn’t been gasping from over Madi just a few moments ago. “Agent Scott,  I do apologize. Even I was unaware of your identity."

 

As Madi reevaluates, she adjusts her shirt subtly so that Eleanor doesn’t take notice - if it’s even possible at this point. “Ma’am,” she says formally, willing her heartbeat to slow down. “It’s an honor to meet you. But might I ask, what are you doing here?"

 

“This mission, it’s of the highest importance,” Eleanor says in return, and she passes a file to Madi. Madi is grateful for her straightforward manner in this moment, as she glances over the top few pages. “I didn’t expect to find you _here_ , but I suppose we could have the debrief now.” 

 

Madi glances over to Miranda, who’s looking at the wrinkled comforter on the bed. “The debrief?” 

 

Eleanor continues, “The cartel you’ve been assigned to take care of only starts in Amsterdam. Ms. Barlow has requested to oversee this particular mission. In there, you’ll find the latest on the heads of the distribution ring."

 

Madi glances up, back to Eleanor. “There has been new intelligence?” 

 

“You’re going to need to take out one of the leaders,” Eleanor says, and when Madi looks over, Miranda - _Director Barlow -_  catches her eye once again, and she holds it. “It’s been officially designated level 9 for clearance, so this doesn’t leave this room. If you get caught, we can’t bail you out.” 

 

“Agent Scott, I have no doubt from what I’ve heard of you, that you’re the best for this task,” the director says then, still staring at Madi. “Can I trust that you are still up to the task?” 

 

“Of course,” Madi says, dipping her head every so slightly. “Ma’am.”

 

“You can keep the room,” Director Barlow says then, and she finally breaks her gaze, looking back at Eleanor. “I know the owner.”

 

She exits the room without another word, and Eleanor raises an eyebrow in her absence. 

 

“Were you-“ 

 

“Don’t,” Madi warns, and Eleanor gives a half-shrug before exiting as well. 

 

The door closes, and Madi lets herself sit down, sagging ever so slightly on the mattress. 

 

 She should’ve known why she was attracted to the other woman in the first place - she’s always had a taste for the dangerous. 

 

 

•••

 

 

Madi sleeps well in the luxurious bed, despite the fact that she falls asleep still feeling the absence of a warm body pressed against her, the tension still coiled tight and low in her stomach. 

 

The next morning, she calls him.

 

John Silver’s voice is crackly over the phone, but Madi appreciates the phone call all the same. Even at his most ridiculous, John is a welcome distraction for her to get out of her head, as they catch up. 

 

She hadn’t realized how much she missed hearing his voice, even as he spends roughly seven minutes of their ten-minute phone call complaining about Agent Flint. Madi’s never met the man personally, but she must admit, she’s rather impressed with how deeply he seems to be able to get under Silver’s skin with minimal interactions. 

 

“Are you good, though?” John asks finally, and Madi smiles even though he can’t see her, her chest stretching with that familiar warmth that she gets when she’s talking to him. 

 

“I am.”

 

“You’d tell me though - shit, Madi, sorry, I forgot how little time we have -“ 

 

“I’m fine,” Madi says fondly. “I miss you."

 

There’s a heavy exhale. “I miss you, too. So much.” 

 

When the phone call is over, Madi pads over to the door, picking up her shoes as she goes. She opens it, intending to go raid the breakfast bar at the hotel, and she’s surprised when she sees Director Barlow right there.

 

“Ah,” the other woman says, lowering her hand from where she was about to knock on Madi’s door. “Agent Scott.”

 

“Good morning, Director Barlow,” Madi says evenly. “How can I help you?”

 

“I wanted to apologize, for before,” Director Barlow says, and she straightens up. “I did not know, before, who you were, but I apologize for my unprofessional conduct. What happened before should not have."

 

Madi doesn’t particularly care to analyze if she’s lying or not - but given the absence of any truly damning proof, she decides to let her have this. “That’s quite all right, ma’am."

 

“Please, Agent Scott, call me Miranda,” the woman says, and Madi studies her. “I insist.” 

 

“Miranda,” Madi says, finally. “I go by Madi. Last night - in the past."

 

That, makes Miranda smile, and she takes a step back. “I’ll leave you to it."

 

“Actually, I was going to get breakfast,” Madi says before she can think better of it. “Would you care to join me? The staff downstairs already saw the two of us head up.” 

 

She resolutely doesn’t think of the alternative ending to last night. 

 

“That would be lovely,” Miranda says, looking faintly surprised, and they walk down together. 

 

 

 

•••

 

 

Miranda takes a sip of her coffee. It’s somewhat like an awkward morning after, as Madi watches her eat a piece of toast.

 

“You have questions,” Miranda says, after chewing. There aren’t many people in the hotel, but they’re tucked away in one of the tables towards the back, and no one’s around them there. 

 

“Why are you here?”  Madi asks promptly. 

 

“Agent Guthrie - “

 

“I know when Eleanor’s lying to me,” Madi answers, cutting her off, despite the fact Miranda is the _director_ , but she also had Miranda’s tongue in her mouth last night, so she thinks she’ll have some leeway in this. “Why are you here, really?” 

 

Miranda takes another bite, and she looks considering before she swallows. Madi’s prepared for another excuse, but to her surprise, Miranda says, “It’s been a long time I was in the field.” 

 

Madi eyes her. She can’t be _that_ old, as Miranda smiles faintly like she knows what Madi is thinking. “It has. This line of work - it’s shifting and changing all the time. In order to be the best for all of you, all of you agents, I need to know what it’s like.” 

 

“Your predecessor never did that,” Madi says. She only worked for a short amount of time under the previous director, as a bodyguard service for the man - before Director Barlow had taken over - and she never had any particularly fond memories of the man. “It’s dangerous work. We don’t need you putting your life on the line out of some misguided attempt to understand your agents better.” 

 

“Luckily, I’m surrounding myself with agents such as yourself, who are exceptionally talented,” Miranda says, and Madi lets out a breath. “My predecessor, he didn’t want to change this agency for the better.” 

 

“And you do?”

 

Miranda sets down her cup, and it’s a sharper sound than Madi thinks she intended. “I do. Do you believe me?” 

 

Madi spins the coffee cup in front of her on the table for a few minutes instead of answering. When she finally looks up, Miranda is still looking at her, with something heavy in her eyes. 

 

“I do,” Madi says finally, and Miranda nods, picking her cup back up. 

 

 

•••

 

The director shadows Madi during her job, and while it has all the makings of a situation like she would have with a probationary agent, Madi rarely has to remind herself that Miranda is a capable, skilled woman, given her impeccable understanding of Madi's process. 

 

Still, even though Miranda is far from a helpless woman out in the field, Madi finds herself working twice as hard to make sure that she’s safe. She thinks it might go beyond even what is strictly necessary to protect the director of the agency, as she herds Miranda into an empty building as they’re doing recon. She thinks it might have to do with something else that she's quite unwilling to contemplate right at this moment. 

 

There’s some low-level meeting in the building to take place, and Madi places the bugs around the room quickly and efficiently, Miranda follows her out without a word to the room where Madi will tap into the bugs and listen in. 

 

The meeting happens, and Madi sends Eleanor her transcriptions, all under Miranda's gaze. 

 

She and Miranda have dinner that night. Slowly, Madi tells Miranda stories from her childhood, souvenirs from growing up in half a dozen cities. She tells her pieces about John, even, after a few days -  how they met, the stories they’ve accumulated together, and Miranda is a rapt listener. 

 

In return, Miranda tells her about some of the stranger cases she’s had to sign off on. Apparently, Eleanor is one of the more reasonable agent handlers, which Madi would not have guessed. She speaks of a rich life that Madi would be envious of if only she wasn’t hanging onto her every word, eager for more. 

 

There's a camaraderie there, despite the tense moments that occasionally arise when there’s a lull in the conversation, or when Miranda leans down to reach something, and her blouse slides open and Madi has to force herself look away. 

 

Several days later, before she can meet Miranda for breakfast,  Eleanor comes to Madi’s room. Madi’s finishing packing for a flight to Dubai, and she lets in Eleanor with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Don’t tell me my cover’s been blown,” Madi says, continuing her packing. “This might be the nicest accommodations I’ve ever had, and I’d hate to leave bullet holes in it.” 

 

“You’re fine,” Eleanor says. “I think the counter downstairs might suspect that you, the director, and I might be having a wild love triangle, though.” 

 

Madi focuses on folding another shirt. Eleanor’s like a sister to her, and they work well as handler and agent, but in this moment, she wonders how she can get her to leave her alone. “Did you need something?” 

 

“With the director,” Eleanor says, and Madi looks at her. “I can have her reassigned. She wouldn’t even have to know."

 

“It’s fine,” Madi says. “I enjoy having her there, actually.” It’s true, she realizes. Over the past week, she’s talked more with Miranda than she has with anyone in a long time - and despite their first encounter, it’s easy to slip into this - _something,_ with her. 

 

“Didn’t you fuck?” Eleanor asks bluntly, and Madi avoids closing the suitcase on her fingers. 

 

“Eleanor,” she says warningly. 

 

“I know, It’s none of my business - though I thought you were with that annoying agent - did I tell you I’m going to have to work with him again - “

 

“We didn’t,” Madi says firmly, focusing on the technicalities, not what could have been. “And my relationship with Agent Silver is just fine.”

 

“All right,” Eleanor says. “Still. Let me know.”

 

“Thank you,” Madi says, and she resumes closing the case. “Besides, don’t think I haven’t heard the rumors with you and - is it, Agent Bonny and Max?”

 

Eleanor’s splutters keep her amused for far more than she would have guessed. 

 

 

•••

 

 

The flight to Dubai is uneventful. Madi sits next to a bearded businessman who doesn’t look at her for the entire flight, and that suits her fine. 

 

The climate is hotter than she remembered, a certain sort of crispness to the sights and smells, as she exits the airport. She’ll meet Miranda at the safe house - a nicer one, all considering, but still, she wonders if this will be the last time Miranda shadows her.

 

Eleanor has flown back to London. She was assigned another mission, some domestic undercover work to oversee. She had left Madi with strict instructions not to get the director killed, and to _call for backup if you need it_ , _even though I know you won’t because you’re as stubborn as any other agent in this goddamn agency_. 

 

Miranda’s eyes are streaked with gold when directly in the sunlight, waiting outside. “Shall we?” she asks, as Madi tucks the scarf over her head to help ward off some of the dry heat. 

 

 

•••

 

They spend a fair amount of time in Dubai. 

 

Her mark is meeting with who they suspect are buyers by the end of the week. Madi takes photos through the window, to be studied later, as Miranda talks through an earpiece. Madi likes the way that Miranda tells stories of her past - her voice soothing, something to focus on even as Madi works. For a moment, she wonders how Miranda and John would get along, but chases away such thoughts for now.

 

“I was divorced,” Miranda says, and Madi adjusts her earpiece. She’s now lying down on a rooftop, waiting for the mark to exit, as she looking through the scope of a sniper rifle.  

 

“You?” Madi says, then stops. “Really?” 

 

“Yes,” Miranda says dryly. “Don’t sound so shocked, it happens to many people."

 

“I just can’t imagine anyone divorcing you,” Madi admits, and Miranda lets out an exhale, the sound rustling in the mic. 

 

“You’re young,” Miranda says then. “Not- in a bad way, but I forget that, sometimes. I loved him, and he loved me, but it didn’t work out for a variety of factors I won’t bore you with now. He was my best friend - and he still is.” 

 

“I don’t think you could bore me,” Madi says, honest. Miranda’s resulting surprised laugh is something that she wants to remember. “Do you miss him?” 

 

“It worked out rather well in the end,” Miranda muses, but Madi doesn’t press on the commission. "It’s been nearly ten years since we split. We got married young, and- don’t laugh - it was for financial reasons, believe it or not. Once he found the love of his life, we were both in much more stable places, and it did make sense for us to part.” 

 

“Financial reasons,” Madi repeats. “Are you telling me the path to the director of the organization doesn’t pay well?”

 

“That was before I joined,” Miranda says, sounding amused. “Before I was an agent, even. I was a poetry professor. My ex-husband, actually, was a classics professor.”

 

“Poetry,” Madi says, and she gives a light chuckle. “What kind?”

 

“The works of Sappho,” Miranda says, then, "Are you laughing at me?”

 

“Just a little,” Madi admits, wiping her eyes. She’ll blame the sand. “How does a nice professor turn into a spy director?” 

 

“My ex-husband was a classics professor, actually,” Miranda says, somewhat wryly. “But I became the spy director because I spent time in the Navy before grad school.”

 

“The Navy,” Madi says, and she resolutely tamps down the image of Miranda in a dress uniform. “Several agents have gone through that path."

 

“What about you?” Miranda asks. “Did you go through the military, or were you a recruit out of college?” 

The questions still the laughter in her chest. “I joined as soon as I could,” Madi says shortly, looking back through the scope of the sniper rifle. “This life, it’s all I’ve done. I suppose it has served me well in some ways."

 

She waits, but Miranda doesn’t press. She doesn’t expect Miranda to quietly say, "I understand."

 

Madi feels something flutter low in her stomach. Miranda is utterly unlike John in many ways - but she’s reminded of when she first met John, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. It's that same feeling now, floating up her chest.

 

This, this was not part of the plan. 

 

 

•••

 

 

When Madi is alone - Miranda stepping out to call Eleanor about the updates in the mission - she calls John. 

 

“Do I have a story to tell you, but you must tell me about Dubai,” John says, but Madi doesn’t answer, her mind too busy working. “Madi?” 

 

The pieces come together.

 

“I think I’m falling in love with someone,” Madi says, and before John can say anything, she adds, “I can’t tell you who.”

 

“Okay,” John says. “Does this someone have a gun to your head right now?” 

 

“What- no, she doesn’t,” Madi says, and if she suspected John would make some surprised noise at this revelation, he doesn’t. 

 

“Okay,” he repeats. “Are you all right?”

 

“I’m confused,” Madi admits. “I don’t know - I don’t know how to do this.” She stops. “I care about her, deeply, and I haven’t known her for that long at all.”

 

“It doesn’t take long.” 

 

"John, what have I done?” Madi says then. "I don’t know how to do this." 

 

“Well, U-Haul jokes I could make aside,” John says, “I think if you care about her, it will work out.” 

 

Madi breathes in, then out. 

 

As if she needed a reminder of how much she loves him, John then kindly adds, “Do you want me to distract you with my own tale of woe? It’s a good one. I’m going undercover again, and it’s with that agent I told you about.” He stops though. “Or we can talk about it. But I know you hate that.” 

 

He’s always known her best. Madi laughs, squeezing her eyes shut. “Please do. This is Flint?” 

 

"You’re going to have to show up to put a bullet through my brain before that smarmy bastard does it himself, I won’t give him the pleasure,” John starts, his voice already sounding heated, and Madi presses the phone hard against her ear so she can lose herself into the rumbles of his voice. 

 

 

 

•••

 

 

A few weeks later, in Paris, Madi waits on another rooftop. Only she doesn’t have Miranda’s voice in her ear this time. Miranda is still listening in, as is Eleanor, but she needs to have her handler on the line as she does this particular part of the mission. 

 

Paris is gray and ornate, and Madi idly adds it to the list of places she wants to travel to one day. Places she wants to go without a gun in her hand. Maybe she’ll take John, or - 

 

Her mark is due to walk out of the building any moment. Madi clears her head of errant thoughts, focuses. Given her intel, he needs to be eliminated quickly and quietly - and that, Madi can do. It’s late, and with the construction down the street, no one will hear the gunshot. 

 

It’s a sick sort of justice, she thinks. If she allowed herself a moment to think about the morality of it all, she could probably argue herself out of a job, perhaps into some sort of guilt. But this is what has to be done, and she always knows what she must do. 

 

The mark walks out with a bodyguard, into the smoky Parisian air. The presence of another complicates things. 

 

But Madi is good at her job. She shoots them both on sight, and she exhales.

 

 

 

•••

 

Like with any hit, her adrenaline rush hits her after she packs up, just as she gets to the safe house. 

 

She opens the door, and she’s surprised once against to see Miranda there. 

 

Miranda opens the door.  “Eleanor told me where to find you. I heard an extra gunshot over the line,” she says, and her face is unnaturally pale. “Are you all right?”

 

Madi pulls her in for a kiss. Miranda’s mouth is warm against hers, and it’s slack for a long moment - before she kisses back, putting her hands on either side of Madi’s face. 

 

She doesn’t taste like champagne this time, but that intoxicating taste is still there, something that makes Madi’s blood buzz even more as she draws back. “I want you,” she says, watching Miranda’s wide eyes fixed on her face. “Do you want me?” 

 

Miranda kisses her back in response, and it’s hard, their teeth clacking, but it’s what Madi needs right now, her hands greedily seeking out Miranda’s warm skin, Miranda as enthusiastic as before. 

 

As Miranda pulls her into the safe house, and Madi leads them to the bed tucked into the corner. She divests herself of her jacket, her vest, dropping her clothes as she goes, until she lands, naked on the bed. Miranda quickly gets on the bed, her hands reaching for her, as Madi starts to make quick work of her clothes as well. It's different than that time before - but better, Madi realizes. 

 

“You have far too many layers on,” Madi informs her after a moment, and Miranda laughs, pulling her back until she’s pressed up against her, legs sliding together, for another long kiss. She pulls Madi’s lip in between her bottom teeth, and Madi reaches up, clutches at the headboard in an attempt to ground herself when Miranda works her way down to bite at the junction of her neck and shoulder.

 

When she finally flings the last pieces of clothing off of her, Miranda is surprisingly soft under her hands, as Madi goes to straddle her.  She breathes in the heady scent of Miranda's perfume, as her fingers stroke her cheek, and Madi leans back up to press kisses against her neck, her collar, the skin drawn over her ribcage. She spreads her fingers just over Miranda’s navel, admiring the contrast between her dark fingers and the pale curve of Miranda’s stomach, and stops from where she’s perched between Miranda’s legs. 

 

“What is it?” Miranda asks as Madi tries to catch her breath. “Madi?” 

 

“I don’t know how," Madi starts, and when she gets off of her, sitting on the mattress, Miranda props herself up on her elbows. “I don’t know, about this.” 

 

“I don’t either,” Miranda admits, and Madi glances up at her. “But do you trust me?” 

 

There are very few people in the world that Madi trusts. But she says, “Yes,” and she knows, somehow, it’s true. Somehow, Miranda has become one of those people - and Madi will find it in herself to be scared of that, but not now, as Miranda waits for her. 

 

“I trust you,” Miranda says, and her eyes are steady where they meet Madi's. “I want _something_ with you. How about we take it from there?”

 

Madi leans over to kiss her in response. It’s something sweeter now, as Miranda twines her legs with hers, and they press together side to side. 

 

She comes with Miranda’s hitched breath in her ear, her fingers inside of her. She thinks that in that moment, she might have found some sort of home, as Miranda gasps wetly against her, and Madi lets herself fall, burying her face in the other woman's neck. 

 

 

•••

 

 

“I care about you,” Madi whispers, and she hopes that Miranda has fallen asleep - but the woman turns over, her eyelids still half-open, hair loose and spilling over the pillow where it meets Madi’s. There are a few strands of white, tucked away among the dark at the woman’s temples, and Madi thinks of sea foam on the crest of a wave.

 

She decides to go for broke. "I care so much, it terrifies me." 

 

“I do, too,” Miranda says, putting her foot between Madi’s ankles and drawing her close. Her eyes are searching. “What is it?"

 

Instead of answering, Madi pulls back a little, tracing down the ink on her side. “When did you get this?” she asks, and Miranda follows her gaze down, to where Madi’s fingers run along the tattoo.

 

“I got it my first year in the Navy,” Miranda says, smiling a little. “James - my close friend from the Navy - he tried to persuade me not to. But he’s always been a little traditional."

 

“What does it mean?” Madi asks, following the shapes with the very tip of her finger. 

 

Miranda shifts under her touch. “It’s an original fragment of Sappho,” she says. “There’s actually a mistake in it, but I like the imperfection of it. I like the way it looks.” 

 

Madi leans down, and with her ear to Miranda’s chest, she can hear her heartbeat thudding. “Will you tell me what it means?” 

 

"Some men say an army of horse, and some men say an army on foot,” Miranda says, and Madi closes her eyes. “And some men say an army of ships is the most beautiful thing on the black earth. But I say it is, what you love."

 

 

•••

 

 

Eleanor calls them the next morning. 

 

Madi hangs up after a few minutes. Then she looks over to Miranda, who’s still in bed with the sheets tangled around her waist. 

 

“I’ve been called in,” Madi says. “Hampstead. John and the others - they need assistance on the mission there.” 

 

“All right,” Miranda says, and she runs a hand over her face. “When do you leave?” 

 

“Today,” Madi says, and she watches a flash of disappointment go over Miranda’s face, even as hard as she tries to hide it. "This might help us - think this through." 

 

“We’ll talk when it's over,” Miranda says, and Madi goes back to sit on the mattress. “I’ll talk to Eleanor if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“I’m worried about a lot,” Madi says, quiet. “But this - I think this could be worth it.” 

 

She lets Miranda drag her into a long kiss, until she forgets about Hampstead, about the future mission, about anything outside of the room. 

 

 

•••

 

 

At the airport, Miranda presses a quick kiss to Madi’s cheek. “Be safe,” she says, and there’s something muted about her that makes Madi pause. 

 

She’s about to ask, but then she catches a glimpse of Miranda’s expression. There’s something - _afraid_ in Miranda’s eyes, and her cover be damned, Madi brings both of her palms up, on either side of her face. “Miranda,” she says, and Miranda doesn’t quite meet her eyes. 

 

“I’m not good at this,” Miranda admits then. She laughs, and it’s a tight sound. “Believe me, I’m not trying to cause a scene but - I don’t know how to do this, either.” 

 

“We’ll figure it out,” Madi says, and there’s something slowly growing inside her that makes her feel sure of this, in a way that she hasn’t felt in a long time. “We will.”

 

“God, you make me feel young again,” Miranda says, her hands coming up to clasp over Madi’s. “For better and for worse.” 

 

“I hope for better,” Madi says, giving her a small smile. “I’ll come back, and we’ll talk.” 

 

She kisses Miranda on the forehead, and then she boards the plane. The universe has given her this, and she isn’t going to waste it, Madi thinks, as she stares out the small window of the plane that will take her back to England. 

 

 

•••

 

 

In Hampstead, John’s cut his hair since the last time she’s seen him. As she squeezes him tightly, she breathes in his scent and clutches onto him a little more. 

 

She meets Flint, who’s shyer than she would have guessed, but she sees the way his eyes light up around Silver, around Thomas, and she thinks she might grow to like him, especially when it turns out that he has one of the driest wits she has ever heard. 

 

She wants to bring up Miranda with John, but she doesn’t know exactly where they stand, not yet. That, and she’s all too aware of the fact that she is currently-maybe-with the director of the agency, and that is a conversation that she thinks will be difficult, even with John. 

 

Instead, Madi watches Flint and John dance around each other, and she works with Thomas as they try to take down Rogers’s operation. Her new work husband is very sweet, and she quickly grows fond of him, as they peacefully cohabit the small flat. 

 

“He really loves you,” Flint says to her once, when they’re sitting out on the porch. They’re watching Thomas and Silver bicker about fixing something on the car, as Thomas pulls out the handbook and Silver gestures with a wrench. "Silver's a better man around you." 

 

“I love him,” Madi says, and she smiles at him. “He’s a hard man not to love.”

 

Flint’s ears go pink, and he busies himself with pouring them more drinks. 

 

She thinks about Miranda every day. 

 

 

•••

 

 

 

It’s funny how the universe works. 

 

Madi drops her fork over dinner. 

 

“ _Miranda_ ,” she repeats, her heart thudding. “Your ex-wife’s name was Miranda?” 

 

“Yes,” Thomas says, looking rather confused as he too sets down his fork. “Are you all right?”

 

“Her name wasn’t Miranda Barlow, was it?” Madi asks, but she already knows the answer.

 

“How do you know Miranda?” Thomas asks, his brow furrowed. “Dear, are you all right?” 

 

 

•••

 

 

She dials the number she’s memorized.

 

“Sander's Dry Cleaning,” a bored voice says. 

 

“I have two blue shirts that must be washed,” Madi recites.

 

There’s a click, and then Miranda picks up the phone. “Are you all right?” 

 

“You didn’t tell me that you were sending me to meet your _ex-husband,”_ Madi says flatly. “Thomas Hamilton.”

 

There’s a long pause. “Madi,” Miranda says, and she shuts her eyes. “I’m sorry. I only found out when Eleanor came to me to approve her selection, and you were undercover. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't.”

 

“No, I understand,” Madi says, opening her eyes again. She keeps her tone professional, surprised at herself at the intensity of the emotion rolling through her gut. “It wasn’t in my place to know.” 

 

“Madi-“ Miranda starts, but Madi cuts her off. Cool, composed, collected.

 

“Good day, director,” Madi says, and she hangs up. 

 

 

 

•••

 

 

She throws herself into the mission. It’s easier, now that she sees John most days, and that eases the strain on her heart a great deal. 

 

Madi thinks that John might suspect something. He gives her worried looks, sometimes, when it’s the rare times it’s just the two of them. But he has a lot on his plate - she’s seen the way that he looks at Flint, and more importantly, the way that Flint has started to look right back at him, both when the other isn’t watching - and so, she doesn’t want to tell him. 

 

Madi is good at her job, and she'll have that. 

 

 

 

•••

 

 

The Hampstead mission ends on a rather dramatic note. In a matter of hours, once they’ve found out that John and Flint have been kidnapped - and honestly, it’s a highlight of her life, possibly, to see Thomas Hamilton grit his teeth and press a gun to the head of another agent, demanding that Madi take him to his husband - the day passes quickly. 

 

As Madi shoots another one of the men in the hallway of whatever lair this is - her heart racing as she turns each corner, afraid to find John or Flint dead in one of the hallways - she can’t help but think about Miranda. 

 

She wonders if Miranda will come to see the results of the mission. She wonders if she gets shot - although, given the laughable aim that most of Rogers’s men have, she could probably do this with a blindfold on - if Miranda would come visit her in the hospital, or if she  _couldn't_. 

 

Then John’s hobbling out of the building, and he catches her in his arms. Madi would kill him herself if she wasn’t glancing over him for any obvious wounds, hands patting all over him. 

 

“I love you,” John tells her, his face both tight and loose at the same time. 

 

“I love you too,” she tells him, and when she kisses him, her heart flutters just like the first time they kissed. She forgets how happy he makes her, until it's moments like this, when she forgets that she could have lost him in there. 

 

They watch as Thomas meets Flint in the middle of the parking lot, both of them sinking down despite the people running all around them. Madi watches as John watches them, and she thinks that he might soon see it, too. 

 

Then Miranda is there, and Madi has pictured this reunion - she imagines Miranda asking for her forgiveness, or Madi telling her that it’s over. She imagines walking away, or Miranda looking right past her. 

 

But with Miranda right there, looking hopeful, and John is at her side, she knows what she was always going to do. She throws her arms around Miranda’s neck, and kisses her, right there in front of everyone.

 

John meets Miranda, he approves of her - and Madi feels like she’s floating.

 

She's good at loving them, too. 

 

 

 

•••

 

 

Later, Madi says, “Men,” fondly, as she and Miranda watch John jog across the parking lot, to go chase after his fake husband. “So hopeless.” 

 

“Quite sappy, actually,” Miranda says, and when Madi looks at her, she raises Madi’s hand to kiss her knuckles. “Madi, I’m sorry.” 

 

With Miranda looking at her like that, she tries to hold her resolve - but it crumbles. She’s already long forgiven her, anyway, if she’s honest with herself. 

 

“It’s in the past,” Madi says, and she squeezes her hand. “What do you think of him?”

 

“He is strange, I’ll admit, but I see why you might love him,” Miranda says. “Back there, I called you my girlfriend. He seemed to accept it.” 

 

Her cheeks are pink, and Madi can’t resist the temptation to lean up and kiss them both. 

 

“I like 'partner',” she says, just to see Miranda flush more, and then they’re kissing again. 

 

 

 

•••

 

 

After the whole debacle at the airport, and John disappears with Flint and Thomas, Madi goes home with Miranda.

 

Her flat is small, and she hasn’t been properly in it for months, but Madi watches as Miranda touches the books on her shelves with a reverent hand. 

 

“This is an excellent collection,” Miranda says, turning to her. “All yours?” 

 

“John’s not much of a reader,” Madi says. “Are you coming?” 

 

“Just one moment,” Miranda says. “James used to get books for me, but he’s been so busy - is this one any good, I haven’t had the chance to read it -“ 

 

Madi loves talking about her collection, but really, this is _ridiculous_. 

 

“I will get you a thousand books if you stop and get into my bed right now,” Madi orders, and Miranda straightens up. “I believe, Director Hamilton, we have some time to catch up.”

 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Miranda says, and then they’re falling into bed together, laughing, and Madi kisses all over her face. 

 

 

•••

 

 

“How many _books_ do you _own?_ ” John gasps. He’s sweating, as is Flint, who had challenged John in the car this morning to as many boxes they could carry at once - as Thomas deftly moves by them, carrying two by himself, up the stairs to the new flat. 

 

“Less talk, more work,” Miranda orders, pressing a kiss to Madi's cheek as she moves by with another box. “We haven’t got all day.” 

 

“You heard her,” Madi says. “John, don’t throw out your back.” 

 

“You should say that to the old man here,” John says, and he avoids the low kick that Flint aims at him. “Look at him. He looks like he’s about to go into heart failure.” 

 

“ _You didn’t seem to mind last night_ -“ Flint hisses, but then Thomas interrupts him, coming back down. 

 

“You’re both old men, end of story. Neither of you will be allowed in my bed if you keep it up,” Thomas says smoothly. “Madi, have you brought in the bedding?” 

 

“In Miranda’s trunk,” Madi tells him, and he goes by her. “Thank you, Thomas.” 

 

John heads up the stairs, and Flint pauses at the bottom. “Just how many more boxes are there, exactly?” 

 

"I'll give John the heavy ones," Madi tells him, and he sends her a grateful smile. 

 

Later, when the three men have left, Miranda puts up a postcard on the wall of their new home when Madi comes in. It’s small against the freshly painted walls, but it’s a start. 

 

 “It’s of Paris,” Miranda says, somewhat unnecessarily, as Madi comes up from behind her. “I thought you’d like it.”

 

“I love it,” Madi says, and she puts her arm around her partner’s waist as they study it together. “It’s perfect.” 

 

 

•••

**Author's Note:**

> miranda's tattoo is fragment 16a (?) translated by anne carson (because WHY NOT)  
> also if there are any glaring continuity errors, pls just embrace in the name of sapphic love
> 
> i'm jamesbarlow on tumblr!


End file.
